


Concerning Thoughts (oneshot)

by loonoosmith



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Implied Drarry, POV Draco Malfoy, Pre-Relationship, Suicidal Harry Potter, Suicidal Ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:34:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24698416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loonoosmith/pseuds/loonoosmith
Summary: Potter doesn't seem to understand why joking about suicide isn't so funny to Draco.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 167





	Concerning Thoughts (oneshot)

The books Granger had given him were annoyingly enjoyable. Draco absolutely despised at times how much taste the girl had in literature. If she had been sorted into Slytherin and he hadn’t been a little purist git at eleven they probably would have been friends long before now.

Potter groaned from across the room.

“Ugh, I want to die. Why am I so bad at Potions?”

Draco’s head snapped up in alarm.

“What did you just say, Potter?”

“That I suck at Potions?” Potter said, laughing slightly

“No, no, before that.”

Potter looked around, now confused.

“Uhhh, that I want to die? Why do you ask?”

Draco’s breath hitched.

“Don’t…don’t  _ say _ that, Potter,” Draco hissed, horrified. One didn’t joke about things like that.

Potter blinked, seemingly startled.

“Er-, alright then,” he said, not meeting Draco’s eye. He turned back to his work.

“Never pegged you for the sensitive sort, Malfoy.”

“I’m not  _ sensitive _ , alright Potter? I just don’t think you should joke about suicidal thoughts. It’s… it’s distasteful,” Draco replied, affronted. There were many things Draco Malfoy was, and  _ sensitive _ was certainly not one of them.

“Oh piss off, Malfoy,” Potter said from the other side of the room, clearly annoyed now. “Get off your high horse, I think after going through a bloody war I can have a bit of a dark sense of humour.”

Draco turned around, now fully engaged in the small argument.

“It’s not, it’s not a  _ dark sense of humour _ , Potter, alright? I don’t have a problem with dark humour, but there’s a difference between being edgy and joking about wanting to permanently end your life! It’s disrespectful to people who actually suffer from depression and to people that actually killed themselves!” he sputtered. Why was Potter so thick at times?

Potter scoffed.

“What, like you haven’t thought about offing yourself at some point?” he said, with a pointed look, as if he’d won the argument or something.

Draco blinked, stunned. 

“I-, er-” he stammered, at a loss for words for once. Potter laughed harshly.

“Merlin’s sake, Malfoy, have you never thought of it before or something? Life that perfect?”

“As a matter of fact, I have,” Draco blurted. He blinked and then suddenly blushed, deeply ashamed of himself. He’d never told anyone that, and he’d just blurted it out to  _ Potter _ of all people. He braced himself for the ridicule that was sure to come.

“See? Then why are you making such a big deal out of this?  _ It’s normal _ ,” said Potter, turning back to his Herbology essay.

Draco felt like he’d been slapped. That wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting. It was … horribly worse. Suddenly he felt irrationally angry.

“It’s not  _ normal _ , you bloody idiot, it’s not normal to want to kill yourself! I thought about it once,  _ once _ after the fucking  _ Dark Lord himself _ Crucio’d me for the 5th time and it was the worst I’d ever felt in my entire life. Thinking- thinking, feeling like that is not bloody normal!”

Potter stared at him, expression unreadable. Then Potter his head in disbelief.

“You’re having me on. Only once? In your entire life?”

Draco was taken aback.

“What’re you one about “only once?” Most people never even consider doing, doing _ that _ in their entire lives. What, do you think about it often or something then, Potter?” he replied, affronted.

“I-,” Potter started, then stopped abruptly. Suddenly it hit Draco exactly why Potter didn’t see any problem with joking about suicide.

“Oh,” he started softly, the implications of what Potter seemed to be saying sinking in. Potter’s face reddened, as if he was embarrassed that Draco had figured it out.

“Oh  _ no, _ Potter you, you can’t-” he started aghast, then stopped himself. He didn’t know Potter well enough to be having this conversation, and said as much.

“I don’t know you well enough to be having this conversation,” he said, then turned back to his book, horrified. His head was spinning. Potter couldn’t be suicidal. It didn’t fit. He was Potter, the slightly-arrogant Quidditch player who was far too easy to torment. Potter, with his infuriatingly messy hair and green eyes that made you feel like he could see down inside you and pick apart your very being. Harry Potter, who beat the Dark Lord, the monster that terrorized and tormented him and his family and friends for years. Harry Potter who was so… alive. Present. He didn’t fit with Draco’s idea of what being suicidal was like.

The pair spent the rest of the day in relative silence, studying. Draco went out into the Eight Year common room after he finished the book Granger had lent him and hung around with the former Slytherins. At some point he saw Potter and Weasley walk out with their broomsticks, chattering on about something. Potter looked like he always did. Loudly, annoyingly, alive.

Later that night, Draco laid awake in the room he shared with Potter. He knew that they were both only pretending to sleep. After several months of sleeping in the same room as Potter, he’d memorized what he sounded like in his sleep.

“You should talk to Weasley or Granger if you’re having those thoughts, Potter,” he said, finally voicing the thoughts that had been bouncing around his head all day. “You don’t deserve to feel like that.”

He almost didn’t catch Potter’s reply.

“A lot of people are dead because of me.”

Draco swallowed around the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat.

“It was a war. You did what you had to do.”

“But they were all fighting for me, or were saving me. If I had just  _ died _ with my mu-”

Draco sat up in bed abruptly, cutting Potter off. 

“If you had _ died _ with your parents those people would probably still be dead. Or worse, they’d be slaves, or purist asshole’s like I used to be. They died fighting a war that you ended.”

Potter sat up on his elbows and peered at Draco from across the room. He opened his mouth once or twice, seemingly grasping for words, before flopping back down on the bed with a huff.

“Ugh, you don’t get it,” he groaned, rubbing his face with his hands.

“No, I don’t,” Draco replied softly. He truly wasn’t able to comprehend why Potter of all people would want to die. There was silence for a moment.

“It’s just-,” Potter started, then groaned once again.

“Merlin, Malfoy, it’s not because of the war, I’m just like this alright? Being alive isn’t exactly fun for me. It’s been either hero worship or - or living with my aunt and uncle and cousin, and I don’t er-” Potter laughed harshly. “Well, we don’t really get on.”

Draco swallowed again. He didn’t particularly want to know what had happened between him and the Muggles to make him forsake his own family.

“Life’s more than what it’s been like for you, though. Come on, aren’t you dating the Weaslette? She’d be pretty damned upset if her boyfriend died,” Draco tried. Was this really happening? He was trying to convince Potter of all people to see the good in life?

“We broke up,” he said from across the room. Draco felt a disgusting bit of hope flare suddenly in his chest.  _ Potter was single _ . Draco squashed the feeling down and filed it away for further examination later. Whatever had caused that thought was too messy to start with now.

“I’m sorry,” he said, trying to sound comforting. Draco was a Slytherin damnit! Hufflepuff’s were the emotional ones! He was pants at this.

“It’s alright, we weren’t really ever going to work out anyways.” He didn’t sound sad, about it, more… contemplative.

“Oh,” said Draco lamely, unsure of what else to say. Potter truly brought out the worst in him. They lapsed into silence for a few minutes. Potter broke it once again.

“I’ll talk to Ron, or Hermione about it. Probably, if you really think I should.” Since when had Potter put any weight in his own opinion?

“I think you should. Can’t have the Golden Trio if one of you is dead,” Draco replied, attempting to make light of the situation due to his own discomfort. The room was silent. Draco kicked himself internally. That was one of the stupider things he’d ever said. 

“You can - you can talk to me. If you want,” said Draco suddenly. He screamed at himself internally once more. What kind of bloody idiot was he? Him and Potter only barely put up with each other! 

“I mean, if you don’t want to talk with your friends for whatever reason,” he said again. Merlin’s beard, he was an imbecile. An absolutely horrid excuse for a human being. Where had he learned his social cues, Mars? He needed to sew his own mouth shut. Permanently.

Potter was silent, and Draco silently began planning which country he was going to escape to come morning. He couldn’t remain in the same hemisphere as Potter after this horrific interaction. Australia, perhaps? Isn’t that where Granger had sent her parents?

“Thanks, Malfoy. I er… I might take you up on that,” Potter replied. He sounded as uncomfortable as Draco himself was. He silently cursed his father for ever enrolling him at Hogwarts. If he had never gone to this school he never would have met Potter and this entire fiasco of a conversation would never have occurred. Still, he felt marginally relieved Potter had agreed to maybe talk with him. It meant Potter clearly didn’t hate him.

“Alright, then,” said Draco.

“I’ll have to read some books,” Draco added thoughtfully, momentarily forgetting Potter was in the room. Potter snorted from across the room.

“Ok, Hermione.” Draco smiled to himself.

“Piss off,” he replied lightly, then snuggled deeper into bed. Awkward conversation was exhausting.

“Good night, Potter.”

“Good night, Malfoy.”


End file.
